A Merry Little Christmas
by ViolettaVerdi
Summary: In the lead up to Christmas, a series of events changes Cuddy's life forever. Will House be able to rise to the challenge of being there for her when she needs him the most? (Set early on in the show.)


**Unfortunately, I don't own** _ **House**_ **or any of its characters.**

 **This is my first** _ **House**_ **fanfic – I've been a fan of the show for quite awhile but haven't ventured over here. Until now! The show may be over but there are still lots of Huddy fans out there, right?**

* * *

It was five weeks until Christmas and Lisa Cuddy was tired.

Tired of going through her to-do list, which only seemed to grow with each day.

Tired of managing a hospital full of staff who didn't want to be managed.

And she was especially tired of arguing with the stubborn, blue-eyed man in front of her.

'Fine,' she said, holding out her hand.

He paused, trying to make sense of what was happening. 'You're not going to ask me why I can't finish clinic duty today?'

'Nope,' she snapped, noticing his mouth drop open in surprise. 'Just give me the damn file, House, and go do whatever it is that's so important.'

There was another pause before he delivered the folder to her outstretched hand and hobbled away as fast as he could. Not putting up a fight was very un-Cuddy-like. She'd probably make him pay for this later but he was determined to make the most of it until then.

And he definitely wanted to get out of there before she changed her mind.

She gave a small sigh and looked down at the folder in her hand. 'Martin Dwyer?' she called out, looking around at the remaining patients.

A tall, skinny man stood up and she ushered him into exam room one.

She smiled at him as he sat down but he stared up at her, returning her smile only with a serious glance.

She opened the file, determined to get this over with as soon as possible and maybe even have an early night.

'So – it says here you've got shortness of breath, fatigue and some forgetfulness?'

'Yep.' He continued to gaze at her steadily and she suppressed another sigh at the man's unhelpfulness. No wonder House had wanted out.

'Any other symptoms?'

'Nope.'

'Okay.' She picked up her stethoscope and took a step towards him. His cold, grey gaze was starting to unsettle her; it almost looked as if his eyes were dead. 'And did they come on gradually or suddenly?'

As she moved towards him, his eyes finally showed a flicker of life. But not in a way that calmed her – instead, the way they were roaming over her, up and down, made her uncomfortable. She'd dealt with plenty of unpleasant patients before as a doctor and it was never fun.

'Gradually.' Even the way he talked made her feel uncomfortable, as though every word he said was laced with a hidden meaning.

His eyes settled on her chest area and she wished she could give him a swift slap.

Instead, she found herself asking him to breathe in and out as she held the stethoscope against his chest, wondering the best way to make House pay for this.

'All clear,' she pronounced. 'Any fevers, coughs…?'

'I told you I didn't have any other symptoms.'

'Right.'

Her mouth was pressed in a firm line as she placed her fingers under his jaw to check his glands. He gave as smirk as her cool fingers met his hot neck, which did not go unnoticed by her.

'Your glands aren't swollen.' She dropped her hands the moment she could, happy to create a brief distance between them as she went to the cupboard nearby. 'It could be a vitamin B12 deficiency, so I'll draw some blood to check.'

Something about this man really unsettled her. She wasn't sure if it was his harsh manner, his cold eyes or the fact that those eyes seemed to be transfixed on her chest. Probably all three, to tell the truth.

She reluctantly walked back to him and gestured to his arm. 'Roll up your sleeve, please.'

He did as he was told, that self-satisfied smirk still playing on his face. He watched her hands as she cleaned the area and inserted the needle. And while she was relieved his eyes had moved away from her chest, she had to admit that she didn't take great care to be gentle.

'You're not married,' he observed. 'A pretty doctor like you, you think that ring finger would be loaded up. Haven't found the right man?'

Lisa inserted the next vial and looked him directly in the eyes, hoping to silence him with his stare.

'Or maybe,' he said, his smirk growing, 'you're pretty but you need to be tamed. I bet that's it. You're a difficult woman who just needs someone to show her who's the real boss.'

'Mr Dwyer, that is completely inappropriate,' she snapped, unable to tolerate anymore. 'If you say anything else, this consultation is over.'

'Hey – just trying to be friendly.'

She pulled the needle out, pressing a cotton wool ball over the puncture.

'Hold that there,' she ordered him sternly. He obeyed, watching her intently as she taped over the ball and quickly walked to the door.

She opened it, turning to him. 'We'll contact you with the results in a few days. Have a good night.'

He looked like he was repressing a chuckle as he sauntered to the door. He stopped by her, lowering himself to meet her ear before muttering, 'You have no idea how good a night I could give you.'

Lisa opened her mouth, about to bite back in retaliation but he quickly walked on by and out the building.

She shut the door to the room, away from any watching eyes still in the clinic, and marched over to where the folder and vials were.

Lisa Cuddy wasn't tired now. She was mad. And, if truth be told, a bit shaken by that man. Her hands clenched onto the table in front of her, steadying their trembling, as she leaned forwards into the table for support.

How dare he spend the consult staring at her breasts?

How dare he make those remarks?

And House! How dare he palm this off to her?

She closed her eyes and gave herself a moment before collecting the items in front of her and walking out of the room.

'These are for processing,' she told the nurse at the station, handing over the folder and vials.

All she wanted to do was go home. Get in her pajamas, have a glass of wine – probably two – and unwind in front of the trashiest show she could find on TV. After the day she'd had, she figured she deserved it.

She had just turned around to go back to her office and pack up when she was interrupted by a polite, 'excuse me.'

She turned back and realised there had been one more patient waiting, who was now standing up and looking at her.

'I'm sorry to bother you but I really need to see a doctor today and I'm pretty sure you're the only one left here.' He shot her a sheepish smile, as though he was aware he'd just interrupted her escape.

She looked over at the desk and sure enough, there was one file remaining. She picked it up and read out the name. 'Paul Gordon?'

'That's me.'

'Come on in.'

'I'm sorry about that,' she said, directing him into the room. 'It's been a long day.'

'That last patient wouldn't have helped,' he said sympathetically. 'I noticed he was a bit…well…' He gave a shrug.

She gave him a quick smile. Compared to Martin Dwyer, this man was delightfully normal. Average height, average weight, average features. And, most importantly, average use of eye contact.

'What can I do for you?'

'I really just need a sick certificate.' He looked a bit more sheepish with this admission. 'Company policy – I need one if I have more than two days off and I don't really feel up to going back tomorrow.'

'You don't feel up to it or you don't feel like it?' she asked with a smile.

'I've been a bit feverish for a few days. Headaches, sore throat.'

She confirmed he had a temperature but was otherwise in the clear. A quick minute to check him, another minute to write the certificate and then she was blissfully free for the rest of the night.

* * *

House stood in front of the door, hesitating for a moment before he rapped on it with his cane. He still wasn't sure about this choice he'd made. Still unsure about _why_ he'd made it. But here he was and now the door was opening, so it was too late to turn back.

Cuddy's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of House on her doorstep, a bottle of wine in hand.

He raised the bottle in greeting, his other hand leaning on his cane. 'Peace offering.'

' _Peace_ offering?' her voice was tinged with skepticism.

House rolled his eyes. 'Fine. Not a peace offering. I just want to get the boss drunk on a Thursday and have my wicked way with her.'

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

'Cuddy,' he said a few moments later, 'I'm freezing my ass off here. Maybe you like hanging outside in arctic climates but I don't.'

'Fine,' she relented, taking the wine from him and standing aside to let him in. 'But it's only because I've run out of red wine and really need some tonight.'

'You sure know how to make me feel warm and fuzzy, Dr Cuddy,' he said, following her into the kitchen as she poured them both a glass.

'I give what I get.' She handed him his glass before walking to the living room.

He followed her, easing himself into the couch next to a cackling fire. He stretched his leg out, the heat of the fire providing some comfort to the ever-present ache.

She sat opposite him and he spent a moment studying her. She'd swung her legs up on the couch, tucking them underneath her like a child, her curls were pulled back into a loose ponytail and a long, cream knit was hanging over her work clothes.

He could practically see her relax as she sipped the wine, the alcohol pleasantly settling the stress and fatigue of the day. She lowered her glass and their eyes met.

'You look tired.'

She frowned in confusion. Was this House… _caring_?

'I am tired. I haven't had time off all year and I've got five weeks to go still until Christmas. I need a break.'

'Or more wine,' he suggested, noticing her glass was being drained quite quickly.

'Or that.'

'Simple solution – don't stop drinking until after Christmas and you'll get through it fine,' he suggested and she couldn't help but smile.

'A perpetually drunk Dean of Medicine? I don't think that would go down well.'

'I'd like it,' House declared. 'You're hilarious when you're drunk. Almost as good as watching TV.'

She drained the last bit of wine and got a refill, placing the bottle on the coffee table between them to prevent any more trips to the kitchen.

'I bet,' House said, leaning back in satisfaction, 'that if you were always drunk, I could get out of clinic duty each and every time.'

Her grip on her glass tightened and any trace of a smile disappeared from her face.

'I am never doing clinic duty for you again, House.'

'I'm guessing this the same sort of "never" people use after they've had a one night stand or binged on a crappy TV series.'

'Your patient,' she said, placing her glass down on the coffee table and leaning forwards, 'spent the whole time staring at my chest.'

House's own eyes went down to Cuddy's chest. He was about to tell her that her top _was_ pretty low cut but the look on her face silenced him. She looked angry – but there was something more than that. It was an expression he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear before.

'And when he wasn't staring at my chest, he made a couple of lewd comments.'

Fear. With a hint of surprise, House realised that was the other emotion on her face. Something about this man had scared Cuddy. And that realisation, for some reason, made him feel as if he'd just been punched in the gut.

'What did he say?'

She was taken aback by the concern she thought she heard in his voice – something she was not used to hearing.

'It doesn't matter.' She picked up her glass for security. 'He was just a jerk.'

' _I'm_ a jerk,' he said, matter-of-factly as he poured himself more wine.

She pretended to ignore his comment. House could be a jerk; she wasn't going to deny that. But Martin Dwyer was a different breed of jerk. House had never made her feel threatened…afraid. And she couldn't imagine him ever making her feel that way.

House watched her, her eyes fixed on the glass in her hands, a tendril of hair a second away from escaping from the ponytail. He didn't want to care but he couldn't help imagining Cuddy stuck in the room with this man, the door closed to stop anyone else from seeing what had happened.

He cleared his throat. 'Did he…'

She looked across at him, noticing his discomfort. His voice was gruff and he paused before attempting the sentence again.

'Did he do anything else?'

'No,' she shook her head.

He inclined his head. It was almost a nod but not quite; an acknowledgment he'd heard what she had said.

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. House was trying to remind himself that Lisa Cuddy was a grown woman who could take care of herself – and that he was not the sort of man to take care of others. He didn't quite understand the protectiveness towards her that hearing this had created in him.

'House.' The silence was broken by the sound of her voice. 'Why did you come over here tonight?'

There was another pause before he finally admitted the truth.

'I don't know.'

And he didn't. All he knew was that there was some drive in him to see her. He didn't know whether it really was to make a peace offering for that afternoon. Or whether it was because he enjoyed spending time with her. Or if there was something else; something deeper.

She didn't question him further. After all these years she'd known him, she'd learnt that there were times when House did some out of character things. Times when the reasons for things he did were just as unknown to him as they were to others.

She looked over to her window as white flurries of blowing by caught her eyes. 'It's snowing.'

'Oh,' he said drily. 'I thought it might have been confetti.'

And just like that, the spell of awkwardness and the hint of something more than friendship that had settled in the room was broken. Things were back to normal. For now.

'Let me guess – you came on your bike?'

'You really do have excellent powers of deduction, Dr Cuddy.'

She met his smirk with a half smile.

'Whatever the case, I don't think you can go back in that.' The spots of white flying by the window had definitely increased and it looked like the sort of snow that was going to settle.

'Are you offering me your bed?'

'I'm offering you the spare bed.'

It was coming down pretty heavily now. The trip over had been miserable enough and he had to admit, he didn't like the idea of leaving the warmth of this house to face outside again.

He gave a shrug. 'I'll settle for that.'

* * *

When they'd looked out of the window, he was worried he'd been seen. But, in another lucky stroke, they'd gone back to talking and drinking.

They mustn't have been able to see all the way over to him through the snow.

He rubbed his gloved hands together briskly, trying to warm them up, as he decided to call it a night.

If that damn doctor with the cane hadn't limped his way across to Lisa's door, tonight could have ended very differently.

Now, he'd have to wait.

He walked down the street as he decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. He could draw it out. Take it slow.

Have fun with it.

* * *

 **Please review and let me know what you think! Is it something I should continue?**


End file.
